


The House Elf's Tale

by gingertart50



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertart50/pseuds/gingertart50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wizarding World contains many underused resources, but none greater than the humble house elf. Or so Winky tells me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House Elf's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Severus_sighs 'reviving Severus' even 2012.

This time, she was determined not to fail. Failure meant loss of home, family, self-confidence and everything that mattered; she was very lucky to have been given a second chance. The tall Professor-mistress had called her and given her a task that would tax her ingenuity and her magic to their limits.  
  
"Winky," she had said in her precise, no-nonsense voice, "I have no idea what is going on around here - well, I suppose that I do, but I'd rather not think about it too carefully - and I don't know how much you elves know."   
  
She had looked over the top of her spectacles and Winky felt she was trying to convey a message at odds with her spoken words. Winky wished that Dobby was still here; he had been so good at understanding humans. Winky had made terrible mistakes before, even though she thought and thought and still couldn't work out what she could have done differently.   
  
"Yes, Mistress McGonagall," she said, because that was the safest reply when humans got complicated.  
  
"I want you to follow the Headmaster and I don't want him or anyone else to know."  
  
Winky could feel her ears droop. Divided loyalties had been her downfall in the past. McGonagall waved her hand. "Oh, I don't expect you to report to me or anything like that. I just want... I want to believe that he's working on Albus' orders still, despite appearances. If he is, he needs someone looking after him. If he isn't, then at least he's more likely to survive even if he ends up in Azkaban." She pressed her lips together for a moment and there was a pinched look to her face, at odds with the misty gleam in her eye. "That's all, off you go."  
  
Despite her occasional tendency to sink into butterbeer-fuelled self-pity, Winky was a good elf. She obeyed the orders given by the castle's chief housekeeping elf, she carried out her duties to the best of her ability and she did not gossip. Mindful of her new orders, she began slipping away from her general cleaning duties, popping up to the landing outside the Headmaster's door or into his bedroom or bathroom, ostensibly to dust and sweep but always watching.  
  
She saw how he paced, around and around, as if unable to rest. She overheard cryptic conversations between him and the portrait of the great Albus Dumbledore. How strange, that the man he had killed should still be happy to talk to him, even in painted form. She watched him interact with the other staff members and the students. She noted his absences and his presence, and that he seemed as good as a house elf at remaining unseen - she had her work cut out sometimes, to follow him.   
  
She saw how he observed the other professors with a terrible look of longing in his eyes, like an elf who had been banished from its home but still watched its family from afar. She saw him huddled at his desk with his hands covering his face. He slept little and barely ate. He appeared, in short, as bereft as she had been when she was dismissed from the Crouch family's employment.  
  
Winky knew that she was not an intellectual among elves; she was not as perceptive as Kreacher or Dobby, nor as organised as Nodd, the head housekeeper, but still she could identify the problem: the Headmaster was lonely and unhappy. It was in her nature to care about those who she was charged to serve; she was an elf who had been trained to nurture her family.   
  
She began obtaining morsels from the kitchen and leaving them out for him. He was fussy about his food and she suspected digestive troubles; apart from a liking for strong tea, his tastes ran towards the bland. He preferred toasted crumpets to fruitcake; he ignored fancy pastries but would sometimes eat plain biscuits or scones. Scrambled eggs on toast or a cheese and chutney sandwich tempted him more often than a full plate of meat and vegetables.   
  
Soon she was in the habit of delivering a light supper to his rooms late at night, and he was in the habit of eating it. The elves knew better than to disturb the papers on his desk, but she gradually took over the clearing away of used glasses and plates, the dusting of shelves and the sweeping of floors. The elf allocated these duties was happy to swap; he much preferred to serve Professor Flitwick, who was popular for his cheerful demeanour and tidy habits. Headmaster Snape had always been irascible; who on earth would want to clean his rooms or dust his horrible grimoires?  
  
Perhaps she grew complacent, assuming that he was far too concerned about his own difficulties to notice her, and therefore it came as a complete surprise to find her back against the wall and a wand pressed to her throat. Winky was about to Apparate away in consternation when he spoke.  
  
"Stay where you are."   
  
It was a direct order from the Headmaster, so she naturally froze, her hands caught in the act of wringing together. He slowly stood erect, his wand held loosely at his side. His face was devoid of expression, yet his sharp, black eyes were as alert as she had ever seen.  
  
"Who are you working for?"  
  
"I is a Hogwarts elf," she squeaked. "I works for you."  
  
"Hmph." He frowned down at her. Weeks of watching had taught her to see when he was truly angry, and she realised that his current annoyance was as feigned as the rage he directed against hapless students who crossed his path. He would rant at them, yet send them to carry out tasks that kept them out of the way while the Carrows prowled. Oh yes, the elves knew evil when they saw it.   
  
Suddenly his wand came up and she flinched automatically as he directed it at her face.  
  
"Legilimens!"   
  
For a moment, she was watching him and watching herself at the same time, feeling his bone-deep exhaustion as he probed her for loyalty, dissembling and betrayal. Glimpsing his mind was like looking into the depths of the tiny, glittering machines that Professor Dumbledore used to keep on his desk, yet a million times more complex. She gasped and the impression was gone like a popped bubble. Headmaster Snape nodded and stowed his wand away in his sleeve, then uncharacteristically, wiped the back of his hand across his brow.  
  
"I - yes, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you."  
  
"I is not hurt," she told him, amazed that he should care. He grasped the back of the armchair beside the fire and leaned on it.  
  
"I've never attempted that with a non-human mind before," he said very quietly, as if to himself. "I should have taken precautions. It was not a sensible decision."  
  
"Is you hurt, Headmaster?"  
  
"Merely a little off-balance; your brain is like nothing I have experienced before. Merlin, I'm losing my grip." He walked around the chair and sank into it.  
  
"I is fetching you tea," she declared and his lips twitched briefly, as if he was almost amused for a moment.  
  
From then onwards, she allowed herself to be visible as she worked in his rooms. He seemed to prefer to see what she was doing and would nod to her, and carry on with his paperwork or reading. He never told her to disappear if anyone else arrived, but she made herself unseen anyway, and he made no comment. Thus she was witness to the casual vindictiveness of the Carrow siblings, the reluctant visits of the other staff, who hid their hurt and betrayal beneath a veneer of icy politeness, and most significant of all, the long, cryptic conversations with the portraits. _They_ still trusted him, at any rate.  
  
And so it was, upon a dark night in May when Headmaster Snape was chased from Hogwarts castle by the Heads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, that a small elf followed behind, obeying her orders as house elves do, to the utmost end. She was watching as Lucius Malfoy came to Snape and sent him to the Shrieking Shack. Harry Potter and his companions never saw her. Lord Voldemort himself was unaware that she watched from the shadows, but then he was too intent upon his own agenda to even sense the presence of an elf, something he would have considered less than vermin on the best of days.  
  
Winky did not care about the outcome of the Great Battle that followed. Only later did she discover that Harry Potter had triumphed. No, she was too busy Summoning blood replenishing potions, anti-venin and healing draughts, bandages and dittany from Professor Snape's personal stores.   
  
Winky cared for her charge as well as she could, and this time, she did not fail. She did lose her job, but she was very happy with her new position: renovating a small but very scruffy terraced house somewhere in the north of England.


End file.
